Light and Shadow
by kuroren23
Summary: Killua and Gon. Collection of one-shots both in the manga and anime universe. Varied timelines, plots and themes.Chapter 3 is up.
1. Light in my Darkness

**Authors Note: Standard Disclaimer applies.**

_The relationship between these two characters represent, what I think, is the sweetest and most genuine form of love. This tale is an introspective look at what Killua might be thinking while Gon was recovering from the attack that resulted in them having to leave Kite behind during the beginning of the Chimera Arc. Enjoy._

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**Light and Shadow**

**Killua's POV**

I was born of the night. A world where there is no light, no dawn…no dusk…no morning after. There is nothing there…just dying embers and endless darkness and yes…shadows. All consuming silent, condemning shadows…Darkness is the womb that yielded me to an existence even more devouring than endless abyss.

Death was my fate. That was the truth I learned from the cradle where life had no part except as a reminder that I have no other goal except to keep my own…To ensure that my heart was always pulsing…beating…my body always surviving…against all odd...There was only three rules I needed to live by:_** Accomplish the goal. Survive the night. Live through hell in tact.**_

I was born for death…that was all that I knew…that is what all they wanted from me…and because they where all that I had… because being an instrument of death was the only way I could have the illusion of family...because bringing death was all that they ever taught me I thought that it was all that I was good for... I opened my arms and embraced the reapers hand and clung to it like someone lost at sea…

Because they were all that I knew of ties and bonds I only saw the world through their eyes…breathed the same air they did and hailed the nights that loved them as much as it welcomed me…cradling me...nurturing me…until even the nights seemed like day and death became all the life that I wanted…I never thought there was any other way to exist...because theirs were the hands that washed away the blood that rained on me and offered me four walls that sheltered me from the fearful eyes that watched me--both dead and living--I learned to live for, through and because of them...

But even then I knew that it wasn't everything…I knew that there was more…more than what I have…more than what they were offering me…slowly I began to want more than the darkness that was my world…with each new skill praised and admired I began to want something beyond approval for my efficiency in ending lives…I wanted a path not littered by the bodies of those that found their end in my grasp…

I wanted more than just the illusion of life that Death gives me…the tantalizing hint of breath that passes by me mere seconds before a body falls dead at my feet—bereft of their essence…empty shells where life once dwelt within it…I wanted what I took from them every night since the very first moment i held death in my hands...I wanted _**LIFE**_...I wanted a life born from all the death that surrounds me…a dawn to break through my endless nights…I wanted light where I have known nothing but darkness…I never knew that all this time…all I ever had to do was find you.

**Gon…**

You…are light…perfection given form and yet unaware of it. Even now…broken and bruised from a fight you shouldn't have fought—desperate to defend yet another person you call friend there is a light inside of you bursting to be free...bathing me..warming me...blinding me to everything but you...You offer justice to people who have learned to expect none…hope where none could be found…faith and loyalty where everyone expected betrayal and treachery with their every breath...

You are faith and trust and all that is good…you shine—flawless and true—simply because you see without conceit or pretense…because you see...and trust...and believe...You are pure...untainted like virgin snow falling for the first time against a barren dying wasteland. You offer solace from the despair that seeps inside all that were once touched by darkness...

You are the dawn that breaks after long endless nights…because you open your heart and accept without walls and without judgment those that come to you—broken and battered—in your eyes they are made whole because you see none of the scars and the wounds…you see only joy and hope that springs eternal in your heart.

You…are joy…you are warmth and peace…serenity and contentment in the midst of chaos because you see pain and understands that it is needed to grow, that its necessary for someone to change and be better. Because your eyes see death and know that it is inevitable…know that it must happen some of the time…and that it could happen to the best and worst all humankind.

You are…love…because I see no shadow when I look into your eyes…because only in them do I see a reflection of life that bears my face and hear life that speaks with my voice…because you make me believe that even if I fall and fail and bleed anew…when I open my eyes once more from the paralyzing, consuming night…there is always dawn waiting for me…because there is you… because you can look at a boy that lived to bring death and make him trust that he could and would find a way to live.


	2. Possession

Authors Note: Hunter X Hunter is NOT mine. That being said, the relationship between the characters leave much to the imagination of writers. This is my take on what could've occured when Biske asked Killua to leave Gon during the Chimera Arc. Read and please express your opinion.

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**KILLUA**

I know I'm a selfish bastard. That's a truth so blatantly displayed to all and sundry that even an idiot, let alone any one with half a brain, could figure it out. More than just simply being selfish—I'm possessive as hell, perhaps THE most possessive bastard this side of greed. I know what I am—I wouldn't be telling you if I didn't accept the fact that I have this particular character flaw. NOT that I think there's anything particularly wrong with the way I am.

And yet it wasn't wealth that I crave—being born into wealth; knowing all the privileges money and influence could buy for me, there is nothing that I would trade or waste to acquire it, except maybe time and even that's negotiable. Money means less than nothing to me. A means to and end—or in my case—a means to secure the occasional decent meal and housing and my chocolates. All else I could acquire through my own strength.

I'm not swayed by the promise of power; of the temptation or illusion of control over the fate of others. I've been an assassin for far longer than I wasn't—spent more than half my existence holding the power to end a man's life in my bare hands. Now **that's** power. It was a power more tangible than any wielded by a politician or a monarch. And it's one I've had more than my fair share. I don't miss it. I don't think I ever would.

No, my sole desire is not one of the normal enticements that lure men—it's not the allure of seduction brought about by the presence, acquisition or dominance over a beautiful woman—I have no need for that and my porn collection would suffice if I ever become weak enough to succumb. Nor is it pride and fame that I covet with the intensity that has yet to know any name. There's a time and place for pride and fame is even more worthless than the dead leaves that crunch beneath my feet. A good solid reputation is a far more lasting commodity than simple fame.

No, my goal was not SOME thing. It was a SOMEONE. Not just any old one. A very specific someone—namely one painfully naïve, powerhouse of an idiot who wouldn't know what possessiveness was if it walked straight up to him and clobbered him with a ten-ton hammer. Imagine the irony if you will—my one desire in the whole world is the one creature whose heart I could not coerce, threaten or dupe into accepting the delicate chains of possession I crave to place on him.

That's my goal, my one true desire given tangible form. Gon.

The one person who never cowered in fear of my deadly skills, my erratic and explosive temper, my fickle nature over joy and anger, or even my dark past. Gon who never questioned my choices in life and never condemned for the lives I had taken. Gon who looked at me with eyes clearer than the finest gems in the entire world, and saw someone worth saving, worth caring, worth living for. Gon, who took me out of the shadows from where I was spawned to show me that there's a place for me in the world of light.

Gon.

But now all of that is about to change. I am about to lose everything. One promise would cost me everything in my world. I needed a miracle. I couldn't lose Gon. I don't even know what kind of life waits for me without Gon. And truthfully, I don't want to know a life without him. Because if I live without Gon—it would no longer be a life, it would barely even qualify as existence. A life without him would be a million times worse than an eternity in hell. Without Gon, the world would be a waking nightmare for me.

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**BISKE**

I didn't fear much in the world nowadays. Those that I have cause to fear I stay well away from. But sometimes I wonder if perhaps it is my own sense that I should fear. I stared at the young man and once lethal assassin in front of me and wondered for the umpteenth time why I felt like a heel for what I am about to do.

"What did you say?"

I didn't look away from the incredulous look in his eyes or the note of outrage in his voice. I steeled myself even more at the look of betrayal that flashed ever so briefly in his fierce eyes that was an arresting amalgamation of deepest grey, blue and green.

"If you lose tomorrow, you will give me your word that you will stay away from him. You will walk out of his life and you will sever whatever ties you have with that boy."

"You're crazy! I can't do that! Gon is my friend! My best friend! He is --!" the outraged voice stuttered to a halt as quickly as it burst from his lips. I watched the fire and anger warring inside him. I was surprised by his control—his deference to my status as his master holding him at bay. I was prepared for an all-out battle—expected it, actually, since I was poking my finger into the one thing this child assassin held sacred.

"I know what he is. I know what he means to you—"

"No you don't!! You have no idea what he means to me—no one knows what he means to me. And now you who will never know that truth—who couldn't possibly fathom what he stands for is asking me to give him up. How could you?"

"I am only doing what I think is best for the both of you."

"How can that be the best? How the hell can that be the damn best?" he roared, his fear of me temporarily retreating to the back of his mind. "You are asking me to leave behind the only good thing in my fucked up life! You want me to abandon him and for what? A reason you only think is justified?"

"You are the main reason for this decision boy."

His eyes blazed in fury as his words were pushed through gritted teeth. "Me? How can it be me? Why is this about me? Are you saying I'm not good enough for him? I'm not good enough to be his friend?"

"Are you?" I asked quietly, staring straight at the agitated young man pacing in front of me like a caged tiger. I watched and waited for him to rail at me but none came. Actually his pacing slowed before coming to a complete stop. He became silent as a ghost for more than five minutes. All he did was stare at the prone body of his child-like companion, flinching with every hitch of the wounded youth's breath. When he spoke, it was with a somber truth that made me feel like I was intruding upon something private.

"I will never be good enough for Gon, Biske. I could be reborn and remade into another form, another body, another boy but I don't think I will ever be good enough for him. I don't think I ever will be nor will anyone else."

"You are surprisingly honest, boy. But the truth remains that you must leave that child's side. There is something inside you that compels me to make you leave."

"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked irritably.

"Have you noticed the way you fight boy? Have you paid attention to how you pick your opponents and how you go about fighting them?"

He gave me a dry stare before shrugging, his eyes once more trained on his sleeping friend. "I fight to win Biske. That's generally the way I was raised. A dead assassin is a no good assassin as far as my father's concerned."

"If that's the only flaw I see we would not be having this conversation. The truth is boy, you run away from fights where you aren't sure you'll win. You never take risks, you never engage in a tussle where the results aren't guaranteed. That's your biggest flaw and its one that might—no that would definitely get that boy killed if he stays with you."

"What?!"

"One day, you will confront an opponent that's just a little stronger, a little faster, a little better. When that day comes, you will run away, boy and worse of it—you will sacrifice him if it means getting yourself out."

"I will never sacrifice Gon!"

"Then you will simply leave him behind. You will turn your back on that boy and run. You will abandon him and as sure as I desire gems, he will die when you do."

"Gon…I-I would never--!"

But while the outrage in his voice was dying down, I saw the stark grudging, haunting acceptance in his eyes blaze forward. He knows the truth—knows it and loathes the fact that he has no control over it. No, he would never willingly cause his friend any harm—more likely he would do everything to prevent that wonderfully naïve young man from causing harm to himself. But if and when the situation becomes beyond even his considerable control, instinct will, inevitably, take over.

"Now give me your word. Give me your word that you will leave that boy to a fate far better than one with you beside him. A fate far better without the prospect of your betrayal looming ever closer to his side, coming closer to him with every breath of your traitorous heart. Better that he die by someone else's hand, through someone else's folly than he die knowing he's been betrayed by someone he calls friend.

I know I was riding the boy harshly, forcing him into a corner by painting the harshest image I could muster. My eyes never left his own, waiting for that one tell-tale hint that I have finally won him over.

"I can't!"

The shout was deafening but I knew he was weakening, his protest half-hearted, the pain and outrage was dying out. Defeat and grudging acceptance was slowly seeping inside him. I was sickened by what I was doing but it had to be done. Even now, faced with his pain, I knew that what I'm doing was necessary.

"Don't force me to make you boy. Give it freely or I will beat you to submission just so you can't do anything but agree to it."

"What do you want from me Biske?" the broken voice made me suck in my breath. _Success_. I tried vainly to ignore the bitter after taste in my mouth.

"Your promise—your vow—on your Nen—nay, on that's boy's life—that you will leave his side if you cannot win on the morrow."

"Will you allow me to care for him until his strength comes back? Until he recovers enough strength and his Nen to defend himself?"

"And then will you go?"

"I will do what I must."

"You will not let him find you."

Prepared as I was for his anger and his hatred, my heart was not proof against raw anguish. Especially when I had to see it mark one of the strongest souls I have ever come across. I steeled my heart against the loss in his gaze, the emptiness in his heart clearly reflected within his jewel-like eyes.

"I can't guarantee that. He found me once. He managed to track me down and drag me out of my family's stronghold. And you should know well enough about how stubborn and determined he can be when he wishes it."

"You will make certain that he doesn't find you."

"I will make certain as long as I could extract one promise from you."

"Promise?"

I felt the temperature drop until no part of me remained untouched by the glacial cold that permeated the room. The ice-cold look he pinned me with chilled my blood and for the first time I considered the monster he will become in the future—the monster I helped shape and felt a swell of fear and unmistakable pride.

"You will swear to me, Biske, on your life, your skill as a Nen-master—on every fucked up gem in the known cursed universe and beyond that you will protect him from _**all **_harm. You will care for him—you will defend him with your miserable life you old hag or die trying. _**You will NOT let him die**_ or I will spend eternity and with every drop of my blood making sure you scream yourself to death. Are we clear?"

"Like diamonds, you trigger-happy brat. Like thrice-damned diamonds."

* * *

**KILLUA**

He risks much and he knows how enough about himself to know that he feels the thrill of danger as well as any man that has tasted the nectar or adrenaline. He is known to be the most daring of his brothers. He would risk much to get his mark or complete his job. His brother was no fool. He ensured that rouge Zoldicks would not cause any of them any problems. Illumi made sure that he would not be allowed to fall prey to his own recklessness. His bastard of a brother made damn sure HE would always choose survival over actual battle, especially against one stronger than himself. The thought would've been heartwarming and could easily be mistaken for genuine caring and affection if he didn't know that Illumi was a manipulative possessive jerk. Illumi simply made sure he would not go after his brother's selfish, insane ass. Even now he could recall the mind-numbing pain that once laid siege inside him. His soul battling against the foul gift his brother so thoughtfully provided to him without so much as a whisper of his consent. That tainted needle that hindered his potentials from growing—flourishing into its fullest level.

But he also knows that there are some things we would not risk. No if the price of safety and survival was Gon. He would choose death a million times over, in hundreds of thousands of ways, rather than live in a world where his most precious one did not exist. He would sooner carve out his own heart—and nearly did—in order to keep the one he treasured above all safe from all harm and every possible threat. Even when that threat came from within himself.

He would trade heaven and take on hell's own army for Gon. He could and would tear his own family to the four winds if they so much as dare breathe a word of threat towards Gon or those that Gon valued. There was nothing—_**nothing**_—in the world he would not dare, not forsake, not challenge and win over if it meant the world would have Gon in it for another day, another morning, another sunrise. If it would afford Gon a minute more of joy, a moment more of awe, he would bring it about and damn all the consequence.

No power stolen from another being, no creature known to man or beast alike, no king or God—imagined, created or disillusioned—nothing and no one would strike fear in him nor cause his step to falter if that being stands between him and Gon. If laying to waste to an entire species of powerful, soulless and fearless race isn't enough of a proof—then he would continue to rearrange the heavens and fate itself if it means he could keep Gon safe and with that smile always on his lips.

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**BISKE**

The young man that stood before her now bore little resemblance to her latest charge. Although physically only the bruises on his body marred the otherwise unearthly dark allure of the former assassin, there was an indefinable air of transformation around him—around both of them. _**Power.**_ Yes, that's what it was. Barely leashed, exquisitely lethal power exuded like the most subtle of perfumes—alluring, seductive and deadly.

"You look a little too worse for wear, boy."

The thin pale lips gave the smallest of smiles. It was filled with a lifetime's worth of derisive amusement and inexplicable cheer. But most surprising of all was the serenity in the otherwise normally turbulent blue-green gaze. He lifted his shoulders and gave her a shrug. The move oddly reminiscent of his action once before, that long fateful night when another decision was made in that very room. His graceful stance remained as poised as ever but there was now fluidity to his body's motion that was all at once enticing and frightening. The easy way he held himself belied the coiled strength that he could and did command at will.

"Bruises, small cuts, cracked ribs or two, a dislocated shoulder and enough hairline fractures to cause someone a heart attack, but other than that we're just peachy. Enough to consider that we must be lucky knowing who we were up against Baba."

Biske gave a loud snort but for once she didn't punt him straight into the stratosphere for daring to call her an 'old hag'. Her eyes were too intent on her inspection of the young man's change. Perhaps she could've brushed aside the sudden surge in the power that he now held inside him, perhaps even ignore the unmistakable fragrance of danger that clung to him, a much more potent one than the faint scent that used to surround him before he went to battle the Chimeras wreaking havoc on that godforsaken island.

"Ora…I thought I was imagining it but you _**did**_ get more interesting boy…"

Once, she could have mistaken the flare of energy as a natural reaction to the battle ready conditions he must've maintained while battling strong adversaries. Once, but then, she would have noticed it and worse, commented on it out of turn. It was inevitable, just as it was surprising. But this was something fascinating, even for her.

"I try, Baba. Wouldn't want to bore you…"

"Impudent wretch…"

"As you say…"

"I assume that you came here for something other than to brag..."

"I never brag Baba…"

"Hmp. Not for lack of trying boy, you must think I will mistake you for other young one. However did he manage to pull of these miraculous recoveries I will never know. Surely the gods were in a more favorable frame of mind when that boy was born."

"The gods have nothing to do with it, though I am thankful for whatever they did to ensure that Gon lives through his bruises. Any other fighter and even I would worry. As things stand, the doctor said he would soon wake up better than new."

She cast a look at the dark haired young man. Once again the lively youth from the tiny island was asleep, wrapped in numerous bandages, lost in healing sleep. But whereas once upon a time he lay there close to death, now even with his injuries undeniable power radiated from him, marking his very air with strength so immense it would cause a lesser being to faint.

"Boy, the gods love that boy as surely as they love anyone else born under the luckiest star. But you don't need any old doctor to tell you that he would recover. That boy is strong."

"Those gods better continue loving him or else I might wage war against heaven or hell to get him back."

"Big threats you're making there boy. No need to fear. He will be back with you soon. And here I thought no one could ever take that man's place. That boy—he really is that wretched man's son."

. "No threat Baba, you know me. Just facts. There is nothing I wouldn't do or dare for him."

"Even though you run at the first sign of danger? Or have you found the key for that particular Pandora's box?"

"I won't be running away from anything anymore, Baba. I got rid of my little –er—unwanted gift. Terminated it if you will. You could say I finally cut myself off from all links of home."

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yep. I found and neutralized my little problem permanently. I would have done more if that's what necessary especially if the price I need to pay is the place I have by his side. I would let go of a hell a lot more but I will not give up on him. He is mine to protect."

She gave a loud cackle of laughter, causing the young snow-haired youth to smile as well. She reached out a hand and stroked the young man's cheek. His eyes widened before a small smile settled on his lips. He allowed her touch with gratifying ease.

"Yes, he is. Protect him boy…only you have the power to stay by his side and the strength of will to keep him safe from harm. Make no doubt, others will come for that boy—either to aid him or cause him harm. Many would desire that power for themselves, many would wish to corrupt him to gain that power or have him wield it for them. Keep him pure, keep him safe and keep him as he is."

"You don't have to tell me that Baba. I intend to."

"Good. Now, when do you intend to lay claim?"

"Baba!!"  
"What?! I was just asking."

"It's not like that Baba."

"Oh? So what is it then? Tell me…"

"Maybe when I figure it out, but maybe not even then."

"You know, you're one possessive brat."

"Yeah, I know…"

"He's one lucky or unlucky kid—I can't figure out which."

"Ask him when he wakes up. Tell me what he says."

"Deal."


	3. Crossing Fate

Authors Note: Here I am again and yes with the disclaimer over ownership. Yes HxH isn't mine. I'm trying to get over it. This is just a random idea that popped in my head after watching the Greed Island scenes too much. Set when the game has been won and it was the night before they returned to the real world.

Notes"

Italics = past/reminiscing

Normal text = present

**_Italic +bold = thoughts, dialogue from the past\_**

**_

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Crossing Fates_**

He couldn't sleep. Though battered and bruised for what seemed like weeks on end, his body seemed inured to the pain and the aches of battle. Even with the safety accorded to them inside the palace of the Game Master and the inviting softness of the bed that beckoned a mere two feet away, he was loathe to give in to the need to lose himself in the throes of healing slumber.

Casting a glance at his erstwhile companion he couldn't resist a weary chuckle. Certainly, it seemed, he was the only one afflicted by such a dilemma. His roommate was already fast asleep in healing slumber. He watched as the lithe figure writhed and rolled around, wrapping the thick blankets around itself in wanton abandon.

_**At least someone's getting some rest around here.**_

Dimly he managed to keep track of the faint sounds of thrill that Biske was giving out as she explored the palace to her heart's content. _**Who would've known the idea of spending a night in a castle would turn their Spartan, jewel loving Amazon of a master into a giggling little girl?**_The thought brought a reluctant smile to his lips even as it vanished a split second later. Something was nagging at him...something that's been hovering at the edges of his thoughts for the past few months and now that his immediate concern wasn't tuned towards survival or training, it has decided to make itself known.

For the past year or so since he has gained the acquaintance and lasting friendship of one innocent, naïve young boy from a tiny island his life has been turned upside down. And now, here he is, trying his damnedest for the first time, to finally to figure out how the hell that happened.

Gon snorted and tossed aside the blanket with enough force to send it sailing straight into him with deadly accuracy. He caught the harmless projectile before it connected with his head, snorting. _**Typical. The boy was a force to be reckoned with even when he was dead to the world.**_He tossed the blanket back into the bed and watched in bemusement as Gon wrapped the blanket around himself once more. _**Amazing how no one's ever figured that out. **_

He turned towards the night time skies once more. His introspection veered towards the past more and more these days and now, here with his thoughts and his confusion, he needed the avenues of his mind swept of all distractions. It was inevitable that his mind would stray towards the past where his parents and his memory of childhood belong.

**

_Killua Zoldick is a genius. He knew that from the moment he was born. His entire family made sure he knew that great things were expected from him. He was born with the best set of reflexes in the family, the fastest healing ability and the sheer genius necessary to learn killing techniques at a prodigious rate. That was saying something given the fact that his family belonged to a lineage that boasts of world-class assassins. In short he was given, from the moment of birth, everything to make the most of his gifted nature. That he had a curious nature and at the time, amoral sense of right and wrong made things a whole lot easier for his clan of assassins. They were ecstatic with the idea of finally producing the "perfect" assassin. _

_Torture was part and parcel of his every waking moment, whether it was poison in the meals they serve him every day or the electrocution that was doled out to him as both punishment and practice for when he gets into tight situations—even possible capture. He lost count of the number of instances when he had to dodge a knife to the back or guess accurately the trajectory and source of a bullet aimed at his head. He could recall having received as many as a hundred wounds before his first birthday. By the time he was six, he was able to press 16 tons worth of solid stone without breaking a sweat. For that particular achievement his father cast him out with no money and no resources to the Sky Arena with a vague instruction that he could only return home—not if but when—he reaches the 200__th__ floor. It took him two years but he managed the task set before him. After that there really was no turning back. His initiation to the shadowy regions of assassination has begun._

_He needed no weapon to fight and complete his missions. His physiology made it possible to rearrange his cells and "create" a weapon out of his own limbs. He was exceptionally well attuned to night time assignments due to his exceptional night vision and even if the hit requires that it be done in the midst of a crowd or even in the most secured of fortress his skill for undercover work was certifiable. _

_Had anyone bothered to ask, they would have been inevitably told that there was nothing that he lacked. There was nothing that his absurdly wealthy and powerful family could deny him. Nothing his millions couldn't buy, his skills couldn't take by stealth or force has he wished for it. He had a well-run, well-appointed home and access to anything his young heart could desire. On that point, the casual observer would have been right._

_It had taken nearly twelve years of constant missions and assignments and all out brawl with his family for them to get his point but he DID get the point across. He wanted out. He didn't appreciate the fact that his entire life has already been pre-planned by a family too blinded by their own pride and ambition to bother asking their son if he wanted the life they were only too happy concocting. The truth was there was one thing that the infamous Family of Assassins could not give him. They could not give him freedom and a chance to make a life of his own. _

_That he found in the last place he would ever thought to look._

**

His roommate fell off the bed. With a long suffering sigh, he stood up from his perch on the narrow window sill and promptly walked towards the prone figure lying beside the large double bed that was provided for their use that night.

"You are a pest. How many times will you fall off the bed this time? You know…I _**was **_trying to think…and here you are distracting me."

Lifting the young boy easily into his arms, he turned towards the bed when Gon gave out a faint sigh and shifted closer to him. He was struck anew at how vulnerable Gon looked while sleeping and how trusting. Sharing a room with an assassin never once bothered the island-grown boy and even now draped across his chest like a child, instead of recoiling in fear, Gon simply swung one arm around his shoulders, burrowing into his warmth, his forehead touching the hollow in his throat like a child seeking comfort. For the longest moment he stood there, humbled by the simple fact that in his arms lay the one person who has never feared him and who in many ways knew him best.

"Why did you thank me Gon…don't you understand anything? I should be the one thanking you on my knees…I should be the one who should be apologizing with my every breath…Gon…"

He did not know how long he stood beside the bed. It could've been a few minutes or a few hours. He didn't know and he could find no reason to care for the passage of time. His body could've stood there and held his precious cargo easily for weeks if he had to. Gon's slight weight was nothing compared to the tons of cold unfeeling boulders he has been forced to carry during training in the past.

Eventually, he deposited Gon once more unto the bed, tucking in the slender figure beneath the warmth of the blankets that threatened to spill unto the floor. Putting to rights the pillows that were tossed willy-nilly by Gon's tossing and turning, he forced himself to walk away and return to his spot by the sill. While en route his eyes fell to the Hunter card that stuck out of Gon's ever-present backpack. He touched the card that caused their fates to intertwine.

**

_The Hunter Exam. He figured with the test for Hunters would provide him with plausible distraction at the very least. The boredom consuming his days was interfering with his normal thought process. The worst that could happen would be that he passes the test but even the notion of becoming something he didn't actually want couldn't sway him. He needed a change and though it took an all out attack on his family, he didn't feel any lasting regret. Sure, he nearly crippled him mom and gave his brother a wound that might—ok, definitely-- scar him for life but it's not like that's anything new. He could've done a lot worse and they all knew it. They trained him and knew enough about him to know that they got off lightly. He held back since they were still family._

_When he arrived he noticed the ragtag bunch of hopefuls predictable and weak. Well with the exemption of one green-haired, sharp-eyed monster clown. Barring that one, the rest of the year's combatants could be overcome. But he wasn't at all that discouraged. It was not a complete disappointment, not yet. He didn't expect anyone to challenge him—except for the examiners—he came so that he could be distracted from the monotony of living. Being stuck in a game with idiots is a better alternative compared to the thought of completing another bloody assassination. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of gears shifting, signaling the arrival of yet another bunch of hopeful fools. Against his will his gaze strayed across someone._

_The new arrivals were comprised of three individuals—a stupid looking ossan in a suit with glasses and spiky hair carrying a briefcase, a young precocious blonde with intense, wary blue eyes holding two swords and a small young boy. He immediately dismissed the two after seeing the way their gaze swept against the competition. The boy however, looked on with clear liquid brown eyes._

_**"Hey! That's against the rules!"**_

"_**No, Leorio."**_

"_**It's a stamina test! You're supposed to run like the rest of us!"**_

_** "No, the examiner said just to follow him."**_

_The crack about his skateboard was expected. Weak fools would grasp the flimsiest of reasons to make accusations. What captured his attention were the clear tones that defended him out of the blue. He wasn't use to being protected by anyone or anything. The mere suggestion that he needed protecting was ludicrous. If anything, most folks needed protection from him._

"_**You asked for my name didn't you?"**_

_** "Yeah, but if you don't want to tell me that's okay."**_

_In his profession he has grown adept at reading human physiology to the point that it has become second nature. People usually twitch or fumble in one way or another. Their hands flutter or their mouths tighten depending on the situation. But perhaps the most telling feature of any human being is their eyes. And he has been trained since birth to assess a situation based on the target's eyes alone. The one he kept looking at, however, baffled him._

_**"What do your parents do?**_

_** "They're assassins."**_

_** "Assasins? Both of them?"**_

_** "You're the first person to ask something about them seriously."**_

_** "It's true isn't it?"**_

_** "How do you figure that?"**_

_** "I just know."**_

_The boy had the clearest eyes he has ever seen. Deep chocolate orbs with the tiniest smidgeon of gold. They were brimming with undiluted curiosity and well-being. His eyes just radiated LIFE. Innocent as a child just before it knew speech or anything remotely civilized—like the eyes of something newly born. There was no calculation in his gaze…no invisible scale that weighs and tallies sins and merits. _

"_**Leave me alone!"**_

_He didn't know if he wanted the boy to look him straight in the eye. The idea that those eyes might cloud in fear when confronted by him did not sit well with him though he was uncertain why that was so. He kept him in his sight, wary of his curiosity though unable to resist it completely. Never in his entire life has he felt so naked—so exposed as when those eyes chose to look deeply into his own. He felt like his eyes could track every speck of blood that he ever caused to flow…every single life he ended due to duty or inclination. At the same time, those eyes passed no judgment over him. Standing under those disconcerting gaze gave him no sense of fear or panic, or the usual instinct towards prevarication. In front of this wild child, he felt—normal. His childlike eyes saw him just as he was—as another child around the same age—with just the usual curiosity and nothing more._

_**"You can train while he recovers…"**_

_** "No. Thank you for the offer but I'd rather study Nen when Gon's there."**_

_** "But--!"**_

_** "I don't wish to learn ahead of Gon. I want him with me. There's no getting around the fact that if he can't learn with me, I'd rather not learn anything yet."**_

_** "I see."**_

_He didn't know why he declined Wing-san's offer to study ahead of Gon. He just knew that he didn't want to study without Gon. The goal was not something he wished to accomplish if it meant leaving Gon behind. Not knowing how to manipulate his Nen could wait—years if need be—but abandoning Gon while he was injured was not an option he would ever consider. He didn't know then why he felt so strongly for the young Hunter. He only know that whatever it was that he felt—it was stronger than anything he has ever felt for anyone—even his own family. And with every day that passes the bond between them grows even stronger._

_Gon was his first and only friend. Gon braved the wilds of his mountain home and risked going against the wrath of the Zoldick seneschals in order to reach him. His friends dared to speak to his mother and demand that they see him. Yes, he has some idea why he valued Gon so. He only wonders if the boy in question, as well as those around them, would ever figure out exactly how much he values Gon._

_Gon gave him a gift too precious for him to ever pay back. Gon gave him freedom—the first he has ever known since he was born. Gon opened the door and showed him another life—a life where he could make choices of his own._

**

"You're still awake Killua?"

He looked at the sleepy-eyed youth and laughed softly when the young Hunter inevitably yawned. He moved towards the bed and slid beneath the warmed sheet turning towards his best friend who scooted to the side to give him more room.

"Just thinking…go back to sleep."

Gon nodded before drifting off to sleep. Killua grinned when he heard Gon's whispered words just before sleep reclaimed him once more.

"Stay…just stay…with me…"


End file.
